


Roses are Red

by rightofpostponement



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, FreeRaquel2k17, Happy Ending, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romance, Slow Burn, The Bachelor AU, iwaoi is endgame, the bachelor - Freeform, this is so extra
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 19:18:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9456974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rightofpostponement/pseuds/rightofpostponement
Summary: “So you’ve heard ofThe Bachelor, right?”“Right.”“Well, picture this: You. As the bachelor onThe Bachelor.”“Makki, are you drunk?”And so begins Oikawa Tooru’s highly televised journey to select his true love from a pool of 25 beautiful strangers. Too bad the grumpy sound guy is so much more interesting.This season will be different, to say the least.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Omfg thank you so much for reading whatever this is about to become. Shoutout to Liz for encouraging/enabling me. Come say hey on [tumblr](http://im-so-effing-dead.tumblr.com)

Employees buzzed around backstage, talking quietly into ear pieces or scurrying up and down corridors trying their best to look important. Nobody was still except for him, a stationary rock in a turbulent ocean, untouchable and unmoved. It was interesting to watch the behind the scenes of a major nightly talk show. Everyone had a purpose, from the harried producer running around with a clipboard to the teenager laying large sound cables down backstage.

 

His phone vibrated in his pocket. Careful not to move and disrupt the nice woman – Sheila – doing his makeup, Oikawa reached into his pocket and glanced down, straining his eyes to read the text so he wouldn’t move his head and get a mascara wand to the cornea.

 

(9:23) _when are you going on? they keep teasing it and then cutting to commercials if I have to sit though one more of those annoying paper towel ones I’m gonna scream_

 

Oikawa tried his hardest not to smile and failed miserably.

 

(9:24) T-minus 14 minutes

 

(9:24) _ugh this isn’t worth it I’m taking a nap call when you’re almost on_

 

(9:25) love you too <3<3<3<3

 

Sheila paused in her ministrations, waiting for Oikawa to stop smiling so she could cake foundation onto his cheeks with brisk, efficient strokes. “So, who’re ya texting?” she asked in a thick New York accent, the smell of tobacco clinging to her hair and breath like a perfume.

 

His phone buzzed again, but he ignored it in favor of giving Sheila a knowing look. “I’d tell you, but I’m not legally allowed to say.”

 

“Ah, so it’s the future Mrs. Oikawa Tooru,” Sheila blatantly looked down at his phone to see the contact name. “Bicep emoji, angry emoji, and what looks like 15 green hearts. Very clever code name.”

 

“Thank you,” Oikawa said, glad that she let it go relatively easy. He really couldn’t say who he’d been texting, unless he wanted the considerable sum he’d been paid by ABC as hush money to magically disappear. Legally binding contracts were a bitch like that. Sheila didn’t bother talking to him after that, quickly finishing with him before busting off to work on a different guest.

 

He sat primly in his chair, glancing around to make sure no one was paying him too much attention before he slipped his phone out discreetly and took stock of his messages.

_(9:27) Your dog won’t let me sleep_

_(9:27) it’s like she knows you’re going to be on TV soon_

_(9:29) Attached Image_

 

A picture of a golden retriever puppy filled his screen, a faint tuft of spiky black hair barely visible beneath her left paw. Oikawa was so busy staring at his phone that he didn’t notice the poor kid tasked with shepherding him into the waiting area so he could make what seemed like his 100th obligatory television appearance in the past two weeks.

 

(9:40) awwww what a cute puppy!!! He certainly takes after his father

(9:40) Going on soon, I’ll try not to gush about u too much

(9:40) no promises tho <3<3<3

 

( _9:42) I will put your hand in warm water while you’re sleeping_

_(9:42) you think I kid_

_(9:43) but I don’t_

 

“Sir . . . excuse me, sir.” Oikawa realized the poor intern who led him to the waiting area was trying to get his attention. “You’re going to have to turn your phone off before you go onstage.”

 

“Of course,” Oikawa said, “Sorry about that.” He kept texting, physically feeling the heat of the intern’s glare.

 

(9:44) I’m being yelled at for txting gtg

(9:44) prayers are appreciated

 

( _9:45) stop it you’ll do fine. idiot_

_(9:45) love you_

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the 22nd contestant of _The Bachelor_ , Oikawa Tooru!” The smile Oikawa wore was genuine, courtesy of seeing the last message he received before his phone was forcefully taken by a stern producer. He waved to the small group of people sitting in front of the stage and shook the hand of the host, one of the dime a dozen comedians who got their own show following the success of Jimmy Fallon.   

 

“Good to have you on, Tooru!”

 

“Good to be on, thanks for having me.” Shit, what was this guy’s name? Oikawa couldn’t for the life of him remember. Was it Tom? Maybe Sam? Too late to guess now.

 

“Now, Tooru, before we talk about the show, let me tell you that my wife just adores you. She was so excited when it was announced you’d be this season’s contestant.” There were several cheers from the audience, and a scattering of wolf whistles. Oikawa smiled, hoping that it looked humbled instead of strained, self-deprecating instead of annoyed and tired.

 

“I’m very flattered, but you should tell your wife that I’m a taken man now.” That was fine to say, right? The producers were so damn vague, only telling him that he could in no way allude to who he chose in actions or words. That they were never to be seen together until the season finale unless Oikawa wanted all the money and expensive gifts he'd received for putting himself through hell to magically disappear. But surely saying that he was in a relationship was expected, right?

 

“Settle down, settle down,” the host said good naturedly as the audience erupted in titters and the occasional scream. “Now we’ll get to talking about the show, don’t worry. But first let’s talk about you a little. So, your season is set to air in a week, next Monday if I'm not mistaken. Are you excited?”

 

“Yes, I’m very excited! It’s going to be fun to look back at all the memories and see how they look different on television.” That was true, at least. He couldn’t wait to get absolutely plastered with his watch party and rip on everything that was said or shown. It would be a booze-filled extravaganza rivaled only by the party he’d thrown when his team medaled at the Olympics.

 

Did he look as wooden as he felt? Was his smile so obviously plastic? He’d never doubted his acting abilities until he met someone able to see through him so easily. His fingers itched to grab his phone and call the one person who could make him feel better no matter the situation, until he remembered he was on national television and his phone had been confiscated. It was like being in middle school again.  

 

“So, I have a question,” the host said seriously.

 

“Uh oh,” Oikawa played along, looking intensely at the camera for dramatic effect. There was a smattering of polite laughter. God, he hated this. He was stupid to forget about this part of his contract, the part that would take him away for weeks before the premier of his season to be paraded around on endless talk shows and morning shows for housewives and teenage girls to swoon over.

 

“Tell me, who’d you kiss on New Year’s Eve?” Oikawa gave a good natured laugh along with the audience, subtly shifting in his seat, hand reaching for his phone like a security blanket before realizing yet again that it was off somewhere backstage.

 

“I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,” Oikawa teased with a wink, laughing along with the audience.

 

“Fair enough, fair enough! So, let’s talk about you. Tell some of our more out of touch viewers who you are and what you do.”

 

Oikawa had this monologue down pat by now. “Well, my name is Oikawa Tooru, and I’m 26 years old. My father is from Japan and my mother is from the U.S., which explains my rather . . . unique name. I was raised in a suburb of Chicago, but I live in the LA area now. I work in finance, but in my free time I play a lot volleyball.”

 

“You’re being too modest,” the host said, reaching over to grasp Oikawa’s shoulder. Oikawa tactfully refrained from flinching away. He hated being touched by strangers. “He plays on the U.S. men’s Olympic team ‘in his free time.’” Oikawa broke into the first genuine smile since he’d been forced to give up his phone. He couldn’t help it; volleyball brought out his genuine feelings like very few other things could.

 

“Thank you, thank you,” Oikawa said, waving a hand. The rest of the interview went by quickly. He was the last guest scheduled for the night, and only had a fifteen-minute time slot, which suited him just fine. It wrapped with a few other pandering, useless questions he’s been asked countless times before.

 

“Ok, one last question, I promise. I'm sure you've got someone you want to get home to.” Oikawa immediately looked relieved and earned a big laugh. Belatedly he joined in too, realizing everyone thought he was trying to be relatable or something instead of being an asshole. “Was this whole thing worth it? Leaving work for three months, dating multiple women at a time, not having internet access during your time on the show?”

 

This question threw Oikawa off guard. Nobody had ever asked him so directly if he was happy with this whole crackpot journey, which had started as nothing more than a ridiculous dare. He paused for a moment, the only time he’d had to take a minute to collect his thoughts and formulate a genuine response the whole night.

 

“There were many, many, times when I almost walked out,” Oikawa admitted. “There were times that I didn’t care about the contract, that I could be sued by a television network for literally every penny I’m worth. But while there were a few devastating lows there were also some incredible highs. Traveling across the country, trying new things, meeting so many new people. And falling in love. In the end, I don’t think I would have made it through those months without this one person by my side, through thick and thin. I’d do the show again hands down without a second thought if it meant I get to end up with the person I’m with now.”

 

The crowd was silent for a second before seeming to remember their only job was to be a soundtrack. Long _awwww’s_ filled the studio. “That sounds like quite the girl,” one of the assistants who sat on stage for some reason chimed in, their first comment all night.

 

“They’re definitely something else,” Oikawa said before looking directly into the camera and laying it on thick. “They're the most kind, compassionate, and genuine human I’ve ever met. Even if they’re prickly and gruff and totally unapproachable at first. Oh, and their arms are absolutely to die for. I hope that wasn’t too big of a hint!”

 

The audience cheered and rose to their feet at his words, voicing their approval. The host dismissed him after a final plug to watch next season’s _The Bachelor_ , airing Mondays at 7 on ABC.

 

Oikawa leisurely walked off stage, waving to everyone in the crowd and flashing a smile at the camera. The smile that won him an award in Rio for most photogenic male athlete. In the _world_. He was damn cocky about that one.

 

He looked around eagerly as he wandered aimlessly behind the scenes, looking for whoever took his phone. Thankfully the page from before came up to him and handed him his belongings and jacket absentmindedly before guiding him out the backstage where a studio car was waiting to take him back to his hotel. The perks of being a C-list celebrity.

 

Oikawa was sitting in the back of the comfortable SUV when he finally got a chance to look at his messages. He had a missed call from his mother, which wasn’t a surprise. She always called him when he went on TV, despite the fact that he couldn't answer her. He listened to the brief voicemail, smiling.

 

_Hi Tooru! You looked so wonderful on television honey, just so handsome! I recorded it, and I’m going to have the neighborhood gals over tomorrow to watch. Karen is just so excited; she says that show you're going to be on is just her favorite. I just wanted to let you know that your father and I were thinking about coming down to California for a bit of a vacation sometime next month. I’ll let you know more details later. Alight, I’m going to bed. Goodnight honey, love you!_

 

God, Oikawa loved him mom. Unwaveringly supportive, kind, and so loving. He made a mental note to call her back tomorrow at a more reasonable time. There were several texts from his friends, all making fun of him in good humor and asking when he’d be back. He narrowed in on one contact, a big smile slowly creeping across his face.

 

_(9:50) ok you totally forgot what the host’s name was_

_(9:50) you didn’t say his name when you thanked him for having you_

_(9:51) turn your head 2 inches his name is literally printed on his desk_

_(9:53) I’ve seen action figures with more genuine smiles_

_(9:57) you did not just talk about my arms_

_(9:58) on national television_

_(10:09) call me when you get the chance I don’t care how late it is_

 

Oikawa answered all his other texts first, and checked his social media accounts until the car pulled up to the hotel he’d been put in, a ritzy Marriot. He thanked the driver before exiting the car. He nodded to the doorman of the hotel before making his way to the block of elevators, impatiently tapping his foot. The elevator dinged loudly in the cavernous hallway, empty except for him. He entered the elevator, rapidly pushed the button for the fifth floor, and started to unbutton his suit jacket and loosen his tie.

 

The doors slid open smoothly, revealing a long hallway painted an inoffensive beige dotted with random paintings of outdoorsy things. Oikawa walked to the room he checked into earlier that evening and swiped his key card. He watched as the light on the handle blinked from red to green before he walked into the room, turned the light on, and collapsed onto the generic queen bed that was neither soft nor hard.

 

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Oikawa lazily unlocked it, pressed 3 on his speed dial, and raised it to his ear. It rang twice before the line picked up with a low, grumbly, “Hey.”

 

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa sighed, closing his eyes and relaxing for the first time since he’d arrived in New York. Neither spoke for a while, both content with the quiet and peacefulness of just listening to each other breathe. Oikawa felt his stress rapidly melt away. If he closed his eyes he could imagine that Iwaizumi was lying next to him in bed, not over 2,000 miles away in California.

 

“One day down, 4 more to go,” Iwaizumi said eventually. “It’s not that long.”

 

“Yeah,” Oikawa said noncommittally. It should be strange, this dependency they developed in just a few short months, the inability and unwillingness to be separated for more than a few days. But it felt so natural being around each other, like two separated pieces of a puzzle finally clicking together.

 

“What BS are you doing tomorrow?”

 

“I’ve got the Today Show early, and after that we’re filming promos for the rest of the day. Hopefully it’ll be busy enough that I get back and can just crash,” Oikawa stopped talking for a minute to yawn away from the speaker, knowing that Iwaizumi would insist they hang up if he thought Oikawa was tired. “What about you? Have any big plans for the rest of the week?”

 

“Nothing much, really. My contract with that one production company doesn’t start for another two weeks, so I’ll just be hanging out. I’ll probably hit the gym with Hanamaki. He’s never busy.” They shared a laugh at Hanamaki’s expense for a bit before Oikawa recounted a story about a baby on the plane that wouldn’t shut up for the entirety of the five-and-a-half-hour flight.

 

"Oh, my mom called. Do you mind if she and my dad come stay with us sometime next month? They're going to be on vacation." 

 

"Of course not. You parents are fucking awesome." 

 

It was past midnight when Oikawa realized they’d been talking for nearly two hours and he had to be up at 6 am the next morning. “Dumbass,” Iwaizumi immediately said when Oikawa offhandedly mentioned his early wakeup time. “Why didn’t you tell me? You’re going to be dead on your feet tomorrow ‘cause of the jet lag.”

 

“Probably. But I don’t want to go to bed,” Oikawa said, finally shimmying out of his dress pants and unbuttoning his shirt. “Sing me to sleep, Iwa-chan,” he teased as he got under the covers of the starchy hotel sheets, looking longingly to the left where Iwaizumi usually slept.

 

“No way,” Iwaizumi scoffed, a soft rustling coming from his end of the line. “Are you in bed? It’s past midnight in New York, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Oikawa said, letting Iwaizumi hear his yawn this time. “The bed’s too big without you.”

 

“Shut up,” Iwaizumi said on reflex, no bite behind the words. They sounded soft, almost loving. “You should seriously go to sleep.”

 

“Ok, ok,” Oikawa hummed, eyes already drifting shut. He really was tired, after all. “Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?” Iwaizumi merely grunted, which Oikawa took as a yes. “Thanks Iwa-chan, you’re the best.” Iwaizumi didn’t say anything, merely stayed on the phone, breathing lightly.

 

Oikawa never thought this was where he would end up. He never dreamed that getting drunk one night last spring and signing up online to be the next bachelor as a dare would end with him being sappy and in love with a peculiar inability to fall asleep without Iwaizumi’s presence or voice beside him.

 

“Goodnight,” Oikawa slurred sometime later, on that strange cusp of reality and unconsciousness. “Love you,”

 

“You too,” Oikawa thought he heard before falling asleep and drooling on his phone.


End file.
